Page 3 of Savage Temptation
There he is. Jagger.
My heart stutters. Six and half feet tall of sin poured into leather. His scent, long ago buried in my psyche, moves over my scenes as if he’s standing in the same room with me.
“Oh. Hey! The Voodoo Lounge? Isn’t that where that man hunk biker you love hangs out? Is that him? The biker dude you talk about in your sleep?”
Jada’s eyes latch onto mine through the mirror.
“Yep, that’s him in the flesh.” The words come out, but my mind is on the fact that I don't see a ring on his finger when he throws his hand up to block the camera from getting in his face.
He mumbles something about backing the fuck off and then he’s right back inside with a female detective moving in right after him.
“Mm-mm, baby. I’m so sorry you had to leave all that scrumptiousness at the altar. If it wasn’t for Oliver, you coulda had a god like that between your sweet little legs… on top of you… under you…”
“Jada!” I blurt, shaking my head. We’re both here against our wills, but for Jada it was better than the life she had. She’s not fighting Oliver’s will over her.
I do it every damn day.
Red sequins fill my vision. Some people have no boundaries. Jada is one of them. She will get in your space and speak her mind to make sure you hear her words.
“It’s okay, baby girl. But if you squeeze those roses any harder those buds are gonna pop off. You wanna talk?”
I catch three stretchers being rolled out of the club’s side door over Jada’s shoulder. I never knew Jagger or his biker crew to push drugs. We have too much history with losing loved ones for him to play with that crap.
“You doin’ okay? You seem stressed. More than usual I mean.”
I smile, but I don’t feel a single ounce of happiness right now. “Yeah. I’m going to take these to Oliver and then shower. Being in this city and so close has old feelings coming back.”
“I know, baby.” Jada pulls me in for a tight hug and I just let her hold me for another minute before I pull back and turn for the door again. Best friends are hard to come by. She knows everything there is to tell about Jagger, my past and why I’m here.
I leave my dressing room and head down the short hallway that dead ends with a large room filled with endless racks of costumes.
On the other side of tons of feathers and pantyhose is where I find Oliver’s office door cracked open.
I walk up, ready to knock, when I hear an unfamiliar voice speak from the other side. And he sounds pissed off.
“You said you had another week in my city. I expect seven more deliveries. You knew the cost of coming here, Ollie.”
I press closer and try to get a view of who the voice belongs to but the roses are in the way.
“Hey, what I’m doing for you here I can do anywhere. You think New Orleans is the only place I have connections? You needme.”
That’s Oliver.
I can’t make out the next exchange and then I hear. “My crew isn’t ready for mass distribution. Not yet.”
Crew? That makes me think the other man is a part of the mob or is a biker.
“It will be. Let this man speak. What plan do you have to help us move our product?”
I stiffen. There are two people inside with Oliver.
I squeeze closer to the opened slit in the door. That voice belongs to a Russian by the sound of the soft vowels and broad intonation. An aura of authority weighs on his words, too.
I catch a glimpse of leather on one man. He turns, giving me the view of a skull with a dagger through the mouth and a large bird behind it.
Biker.
The Russian is just out of view and says something I can’t make out. If only I can get a little…
